


make new again

by greenbergsays



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anniversary, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 15:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12914988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbergsays/pseuds/greenbergsays
Summary: It's their anniversary, according to Bucky.





	make new again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entigral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entigral/gifts).



> Written for **entigral** as part of the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico auction.
> 
> The request: canon compliant stucky with smut and schmoop.

When Steve stepped through the front door, he noticed three things immediately.

The first was that all the lights in their house were shut off. There wasn’t a glow coming from the television in the living room. There wasn’t a light on in the kitchen. _Nothing_. It was nearly pitch black and it was silent.

The second thing he noticed was the thick scent of something that smelled suspiciously like the Barnes secret family recipe for pot roast. His stomach gurgled hungrily as he took in a slow, deep breath. That scent -- because it _was_ the smell of Mrs. Barnes’ pot roast -- brought back too many nearly-forgotten memories. His heart ached.

The last thing that he noticed was the only source of light in the house: two lines of small, flickering candles creating a path through the house. That path was blanketed by pale-pink rose petals.

Slowly, Steve set down his gym bag.

“Buck?” He called out cautiously.

He stayed in the foyer, listening for an answer, but their apartment was completely silent.

Stepping out of his shoes, Steve kicked them toward the pile of other assorted shoes by the door. He glanced down the darkened hallway, but there was still no movement, no sound.

“Bucky?” He said again as he set his keys in the crystal bowl that they kept on a table in the foyer exactly for that purpose. “What’s going on?”

The bowl itself was fancier than anything that either of them would’ve chosen themselves, but their decor had been decided by committee and Steve tended not to argue with anyone that could choke him out with their thighs. It also held Bucky’s keys on top of a small pile of assorted change, so Steve knew he was home despite the lack of an answer.

By the bowl, there was folded cardstock with his name written on it in Bucky’s handwriting. Steve picked it up and tilted it toward the light of the candles so that he could read the words within.

_Just follow the trail, dumbass. Stop asking questions._

Steve laughed softly.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured.

He obediently followed the path made for him away from the foyer and adjoining living room, down the hall. Petals stuck to the bottom of his feet and Steve thought it was a shame that he had to mess up something that had obviously taken Bucky a lot of time to perfect. His chest felt warm and tight when he thought about that and he grinned stupidly to himself as he followed the trail into the kitchen.

There were more candles set sporadically, strategically around the kitchen. The table was set for two, a single candle lit in the middle of the table. Wine was already poured into the glasses, the bottle chilling in ice at the edge of the table. A basket of rolls sat beside a large crockpot.

Bucky was there waiting for him. His hair was tied back at the base of his neck and even though he only wore jeans and a simple button up, it was obvious that he’d put thought into his appearance. He smiled when Steve came through the door.

Steve took all of this in, his chest only growing tighter as he took in each detail. He looked back at Bucky, slowly holding up the note.

“Romantic,” he commented, trying to make a joke of it, but there was a tremble in his fingers that betrayed his true feelings. Bucky had done all of this for him and it was just -- too much. Too perfect.

Bucky grinned. “I try,” he said and then nothing else.

Still waiting for Steve, for his reaction. Steve floundered under the weight of the moment.

“Is -- is that your mom’s pot roast?” He asked softly.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say; Bucky had managed to render him nearly speechless. He couldn’t move, either. He was rooted to the spot, struck frozen by the atmosphere Bucky had created.

Bucky laughed softly and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Your favorite. I remembered.”

Steve blushed. He became suddenly aware of how out of place he was. There he stood in only his gym clothes, while everything else around him was elegant and perfect. Even Bucky looked as if he just stepped out of a magazine.

“I feel,” Steve paused, “ _distinctly_ under dressed.”

Shaking his head, Bucky walked closer and took him by the hips, pulling him closer.

“Nah,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

He kissed Steve softly, chastely. His metal hand cupped Steve’s cheek, thumb caressing Steve’s cheekbone. When he pulled away, Bucky’s eyes were soft and warm as he smiled at Steve again.

Steve smiled back.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked.

Bucky’s smile widened into an outright grin. “Our anniversary,” he said.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“It’s...not our anniversary, Buck,” he said slowly. “Not for a few more months.”

“Maybe not the real one,” Bucky conceded. His hands tightened on Steve, pulling him a little closer. “But four years ago today, you promised you’d be with me ‘til the end of the line. Four years ago, you woke me up from the worst nightmare imaginable and I know we’re both still recovering from that nightmare, but I figure it’s still something we should celebrate. The fact that we found each other again. That you found me and wouldn’t let go, no matter what everyone else told you.”

Steve’s heart thumped painfully against his ribcage, his chest feeling tight again. His eyes burned as he swallowed thickly.

“Buck,” he whispered.

Bucky shook his head, his smile turning rueful.

“I don’t remember our real anniversary,” he admitted. “And I’m -- I’m okay with that. Maybe we can sit down one day and you can tell me the story. But I don’t remember and I thought that maybe this could be our new one. A new anniversary for a new us.”

Steve nodded quickly.

“Yeah,” he said roughly. “Yeah, that -- that sounds --”

He shook his head, his hands coming up to cup Bucky’s cheeks as he surged forward. Their bodies were flush together, fingers digging painfully into skin as they shared a deep, hungry kiss and then another and another.

“I love you,” Bucky murmured between kisses. “Love you so fuckin’ much.”

“Me too,” Steve whispered back. “I love you, too, I --”

His words were cut off by a soft moan when Bucky kissed him again. He tried to push impossibly closer, even as his hands dropped between them to unbutton Bucky’s shirt.

“Save it,” Bucky said, even as he helped Steve remove the shirt completely. “Our dinner’s getting cold.”

“Don’t care,” Steve said, “I don’t fuckin’ -- I don’t care, Buck, c’mon.”

It’d been years since Steve had enjoyed Mrs. Barnes’ pot roast, but at that particular moment, he was no longer hungry. The only thing he could focus on was the heat spreading through his body from Bucky’s words, the warmth of Bucky’s hands on his body, the slick movement of their lips against one another.

Bucky allowed Steve to divest him of his meticulously put together outfit and he, in turn, divested Steve of his work out clothes. They fell together against the nearest surface -- the counter -- freshly bared skin sliding together deliciously.

“You’re ruinin’ my romance,” Bucky complained, biting at Steve’s neck.

“It’s romantic,” Steve babbled, hiking a leg around Bucky’s waist. He planted his hands on the countertop as leverage, lifting his other leg so that he could more easily pull Bucky between his thighs. “It’s so -- where, where’s the -- do we have any lube?  Yes, _yes_ \-- it’s fuckin’ romantic, Buck, now just --”

Steve’s head fell back against the cabinets with a soft _thud_. Bucky, by some magic, had found the slick and now wet fingers were pushing into Steve at a pace that Steve found both excruciating and excruciatingly _good_.

“Fuck,” he breathed out.

It was only when he opened his eyes to look at Bucky that he realized he’d closed them at all. His expression was as accusatory as one’s expression could be while in such a position.

“You planned this.”

For all his protesting, it _had_ to have be planned. How else had Bucky conveniently found lube in their kitchen?

“Of course I fucking planned it,” Bucky said as he started to move his fingers a little faster. “Did you somehow miss the roses, sweetheart? The candlelit dinner? The romantic speech?”

“Fuck you,” Steve moaned. “You know what I mean.”

Bucky grinned in that charming way that made Steve want to both smack him and kiss him at the same time.

“You wanna know a secret about you, Steve Rogers?” He asked. “For as prickly as you wanna be, you’re a fuckin’ sucker for romance. You get so hot for it, y’know that? I knew this would get you goin’, I just didn’t count on it happenin’ _before_ dinner.”

Bucky withdrew his fingers. He grabbed the lube just long enough to slick his cock and then tossed it carelessly aside. The bottle bounced off the stove and clattered noisily to the floor; neither of them paid it the least bit of attention.

Slowly, Bucky pushed into him. Steve made an animal noise in his throat, clawing at Bucky to try and get him closer.

“You mad at me?” Bucky whispered against Steve’s lips.

When Steve shook his head frantically, Bucky smiled.

There was little more talking between them. The only sound in the kitchen was their loud, panting breaths and the slap of skin on skin as Bucky fell into a rough, fast rhythm. Steve was held up only by one trembling arm, the other hooked tightly around Bucky’s neck to keep him close.

His nails bit into Bucky’s skin and somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve knew that he was probably leaving bruises. He might actually be drawing blood. Even still, he couldn’t loosen his hold. It felt like if he did that, that he’d been loosening the grip on his own sanity.

Bucky thrust in deeply and held himself there, grinding his hips against Steve’s ass as his metal hand trailed down the arm holding Steve up. He shifted, taking more of Steve’s weight onto his own body as he urged that arm around him.

“Just hold onto me,” Bucky said breathlessly. “I’ve got ya, just -- yeah, yeah, just like that.”

Steve gripped Bucky’s neck and shoulders, pulling himself up, folding himself nearly in half just to get another kiss. Groaning, Bucky curled an arm around him, planting the other one on the counter as he began to move inside him again.

Steve moaned raggedly into his mouth. All he could do now was hold on tightly as Bucky thrust up into him roughly. His mouth slid down, biting at Bucky’s jaw, licking the straining tendons of his neck, and Bucky only fucked him harder for it.

“Touch yourself,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s cheek.

Steve shifted in his arms, reaching down between them to wrap a hand around his cock. It only took a few quick strokes before he spurted between them, his head banging against the cabinets as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him.

_“Fuck_ ,” Bucky hissed. He bit at the nape of Steve’s neck as he, too, found release.

They fell back against the counter together, exhausted. For a moment, neither of them moved, clinging to one another as their panting breaths ghosted across sweat-covered skin. Finally, Bucky moved back, slowly pulling out of Steve. He lowered Steve’s feet to the ground, but stayed close enough to bear the brunt of his weight. Steve’s legs were still jelly, tingling from both his orgasm and the contortion.

Gravitating toward one another, they shared a slow kiss.

“You okay?” Bucky asked and Steve nodded. Another kiss, this one this a little longer. “Told ya that you got hot for romance.”

Steve snorted. “Fuck you,” he said, but it lacked the heat of anger. He only sounded satisfied and perhaps a little sleepy.

“Maybe later,” Bucky said, kissing his cheek. “But first: food.”

He walked backward toward the table, pulling Steve along with him. They twirled in the middle of the floor, grinning at each other like the fools they were, so that Bucky could gently push Steve into his chair. He slid into the seat across from him.

The wax from the melting candle had made a mess of the tablecloth, the flame down to the barest hint of light. The wine that Bucky had poured earlier was now arm. The pot roast on their plates was cold.

In Steve’s opinion, they’d never had a better anniversary.


End file.
